


santa's little helper

by mwestbelle



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Belly Kink, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fat Character, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, chubby bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 17:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: Steve works as a Christmas elf. This year, there's a hot new Santa.





	santa's little helper

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbelievably saccharine. I hope you like it! Inspired by a prompt from an anon, featuring a deliciously chunky Bucky.

It’s not the cherished kind of holiday tradition, like a stocking filled with candy or a new pair of pajamas on Christmas Eve, but there’s no denying that the holiday season has begun as Steve tugs on his elf hat. He squints at himself in the mirror, adjusting the hat to a more jaunty, off-kilter angle, then grabs the blush again. He swirls another layer of pink over his cheeks, then brushes any excess across his nose. He looks pleasantly rosy-cheeked, like he’s been out in the cold for just long enough to get flushed. Perfect.

Christmas Elf isn’t exactly a dream job, but Steve is lucky enough to make his living as an artist most of the year. The extra boost of cash at the end of the year is nothing to sneeze at, and he’s definitely got the right look. Plus, the Christmas Village is definitely a step up from the average mall, and the other elves are cool.

He ducks out of the breakroom-slash-changing room and starts making his way over to the wooden gingerbread house that serves as Santa’s Workshop. There’s already a healthy line snaking out the door, and Steve fixes on a dopey grin and waves to the handful of kids who notice him with wide eyes. He glances through the window to the gingerbread house as he passes out of instinct, but what he sees makes him stop and look more closely. But it’s true: Santa is...different.

The staff entrance is hidden on the back of the house, and he finds Natasha waiting just inside the door for the shift change.

“Hey, Nat-” he starts, but she doesn’t turn around, just clicks her tongue disapprovingly until he sighs. “ _Jingle_.”

She turns back to him with a sweet smile. Natasha takes elf rules very seriously; working with her is great, but Steve always feels a little bit like he’s on some kind of elaborate secret mission with her instead of just play-acting for a bunch of kids. “Yes, Twinkle?”

“Where’s George?”

Natasha wrinkles her nose at him. “You didn’t hear? He finally moved down to Texas to be with the grandkids.”

“Shit.” That really gets him a dark look from Natasha, but Steve’s used to it. He doesn’t mind being the rebel elf. “Who’s that, then?”

Natasha gives him a blank look. “It’s Santa. Obviously.”

*

Ever since Steve started working at Christmas Village, George had been Santa. He was exactly the kind of guy you would expect to find inside a Santa suit - big and jolly, with a real snowy white beard and a laugh that filled the little gingerbread house. He did a great job, of course, but more than that, Steve _knew_ him. He knew how he liked to work, the little signs that he wanted an extra minute or two with a kid who really needed some Santa time as well as the “get this kid out of here now” vibe. New Santa was an entirely unknown entity.

It was just as well that he was on photo duty this shift; it gave him time to observe. New Santa was definitely younger than George, thought it was of course impossible to tell any details. But damn, he was _good_. He was quieter than George; where George was booming, New Santa was...cozy. He didn’t seem to have much in the way of a script or practiced patter; he spoke quietly and intently with each kid, and his bright blue eyes really did twinkle in photos. Steve handed off printed photos to pleased parents and starry-eyed kids all afternoon.

But the real discovery doesn’t come until after his shift is over and Santa’s Workshop is closed for the day. Steve is tucking his elf stuff back into his locker when New Santa comes into the room. He meets Steve’s eyes and comes over, tugging his hat and beard off, and oh _god_ , New Santa is insanely hot.

“Hey,” New Santa says. He’s not only younger than George, he’s probably Steve’s age, and he’s got a faint scratch of dark stubble across his soft cheeks and little padded double chin. His dark hair is pulled away from his face, which means it’s _long_ , oh fuck. He smiles at Steve, chubby cheeks dimpling a little, and offers him his hand. “Just wanted to introduce myself, since I’m the new guy in town and all. I’m Bucky.”

“Steve,” Steve says blankly, taking Bucky’s warm hand. “I mean, welcome. You did a great job.”

“Yeah?” Bucky grins, and he holds Steve’s hand for just a moment too long before letting go. “Thanks. I’ve done some volunteering with schools and stuff, but this is my first pro Santa gig.”

“You were great,” Steve repeats. Bucky is unbuttoning his heavy red coat, and fuck, it turns out that the beard may be fake, but Bucky definitely isn’t wearing any padding under that Santa suit. He’s only wearing a thin white t-shirt, which is fair since the suit has to get hot, but it _clings_ deliciously to the broad, round swell of his belly. Steve can see the shadow of his navel through the light cotton, and he feels a little bit light-headed.

That was the other thing Steve was used to with George. Sure, he’s not going to pretend he never gave George’s hefty gut an appreciative look, but George was married, a grandfather, and definitely not in any way a romantic prospect for Steve. There was some aesthetic appreciation of the Santa Bod, but that was all. But Bucky...god. After stripping off the rest of the costume, Bucky is left in a pair of blue jeans that, unsurprisingly, are buttoned up underneath his belly. He tugs on a sweater over the t-shirt, but it doesn’t do anything to soothe Steve’s lusts. It’s just as sinfully tight, and he looks even more delicious now, thick, soft fat encased in a snuggly warmth.

“I’ll see you around,” Bucky says, giving Steve a little wave. “Have a good one.”

“Yeah.” Steve raises his own hand in response. He is _so_ screwed.

*

Steve’s Santa crush just gets worse as December marches on. Bucky is sweet with the kids and wickedly funny off the clock. There are always plenty of sweets and cookies in the breakroom from the village’s bakery, gingerbread men with broken legs or truffles that didn’t set properly. Steve is an occasional nibbler, but Bucky always seems to be munching on something before or after his shift.

“Leave some for the rest of us,” Natasha teases, tweaking his ear on her way past. Steve does his best not to be jealous of the easy friendship the two of them have already settled into.

“Hey.” Bucky bats vaguely at her, crunching on an oversized sugar cookie a little too brown on the bottom to sell. “I’m getting into _character_.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from pointing out that the cookies help Bucky’s “character” in more ways than one. He’s pretty sure no one except a big old sex pervert would notice that Bucky’s put on a few pounds since the start of the season, but Steve is, in fact, a giant sex pervert and he definitely does. Bucky’s chunky thighs spread just a little further than they used to, even in his big red pants, and there’s a little extra curve to his love handles when he tugs off the red coat. Steve knows that his own hands would seem small and delicate cupped around those luscious curves. He’d like nothing better than to get a big handful and _squeeze_.

“Earth to Rogers,” Bucky says, his voice cutting through Steve’s illicit fantasies. “Are you coming or not?”

“What?” Steve tugs his hat off and shoves it in his locker. He looks back over at Bucky, trying to convince himself that his actual flush is hidden under the layers of blush still on his cheeks.

“You’re a goddamn space cadet.” Bucky shakes his head fondly, hefting himself up from his chair in a delicious, practiced motion. He’s wearing a plaid flannel that hugs him in the best ways.  “We’re going out. Beer. Fried food. You better be coming.”

Being around Bucky in his full non-Santa glory while greasy food and beer is involved sounds like pretty much the last thing Steve needs, but he finds himself nodding anyway. Bucky’s got that kind of way about him, effortlessly charming even when he’s not doing the Santa routine for the kids. He’s hard to say no to, not that Steve particularly wants to.

They make a very merry crew, Santa and an assortment of elves heading to the local watering hole and ordering pitchers and rounds of mozzarella sticks with all the certainty of old-timey carolers demanding figgy pudding. Steve ends up on the opposite end of the table, which is in equal parts a relief and disappointment. He ends up chatting with Peter, a college kid working at the village for the first time who’s enough of good kid that he doesn’t help himself to a glass of beer, even though god knows no one is checking. But not, thankfully, enough of one that he refuses the glass Steve pours for him. Steve is getting maybe a little too passionate about the educational industrial complex when a hand settles on his shoulder. When he looks back, it’s Bucky standing behind him with a grin.

“Can I steal Steve for a second?”

“Of course, Santa,” Peter chirps automatically, before blushing and taking a long drink of his beer.

Steve wants to drain his own beer, for courage, but he just keeps it clutched in his hand, letting Bucky guide him away from their rowdy table to relative privacy next to cockeyed wreath a few feet away.

“What’s up?”

Bucky, for once, seems a little unsure. He tucks a thumb into his pocket before saying, “I’m usually pretty good at reading people, so, uh, I’m sorry if I’m getting this wrong. But...would you want to go out sometime?”

“We are out,” Steve says, dumbly, before he can help himself, but Bucky’s wince clears any possibility in his mind that he’s misunderstanding what Bucky’s talking about. “I mean...yes. God, yeah. Definitely.”

“Really?” Bucky’s grin is back then, and Steve’s heart flips over a little at how sweet and round his cheeks look when he smiles like that. “Awesome.”

They aren’t quite holding hands when they walk back to the table, but they do stick close to each other. Natasha reaches over to pinch Steve’s side. “Get it, Twinkle.”

“Fuck off,” Steve says, beaming.

*

Bucky, of course, takes Steve out for a real, legit dinner, because he’s amazing. He looks amazing too, of course, in another one of his sweaters - this one blue, to bring out his eyes. Steve can only imagine how plush he must feel under the soft fabric. Maybe tonight he’ll finally find out.

They’re finishing up dinner when Bucky nudges Steve’s foot with his. “Are you all Christmased out from work?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. After spending all his days insistently merry, he doesn’t usually seek out more holiday stuff in his time off.  “Maybe? What did you have in mind?”

“It’ll be worth it,” Bucky says, snagging the check from the server without even giving Steve a chance. “Trust me.”

It’s just starting to snow when they step outside. Bucky offers Steve his hand, and Steve happily takes it. Even through their gloves, he likes to think he can feel Bucky’s warmth.

Bucky leads him to an outdoor Christmas market, all aglow with strings of patio lights criss-crossing the street between booths. It’s definitely a different crowd than they get at the village during the day, lots of couples strolling in the snow, and Steve feels a little spark of satisfaction, to be the guy who’s here with Bucky. He sticks close as they browse through the stands, checking out little crafts and goodies. Bucky leaves him admiring some handmade ornaments, then reappears with steaming cups of cocoa and fresh, gooey cookies.

Steve makes quick work of the cookie, but he’s shivering a little by the time he gets to the cocoa, clasping it between his hands.

“Hey.” Bucky frowns over at him. “You cold?”

“Just a little,” Steve says, ready to brush it off, but Bucky’s already unzipping his coat and holding one side out to beckon Steve closer. He’s sure as hell not going to turn that down. He steps into Bucky’s space, inside the warmth of his coat, and wraps one arm around Bucky’s thick, soft middle. He’s like a goddamn furnace, and Steve sighs happily, letting his cheek rest gently against Bucky’s broad chest. “Oh, fuck, you’re warm.”

Bucky chuckles a little, his whole body rumbling pleasantly against Steve. “Mmm, one of the benefits of the cookies and milk diet, I guess.”

“I like it,” Steve says softly, mostly into Bucky’s sweater. He tips his face up though, blinking through the snowflakes landing in his eyelashes. “I like you.”

Bucky’s smile softens for just a moment, and then he’s bending down to catch Steve’s lips in a sweet, chocolatey kiss. It only lasts a moment, but Steve suddenly feels warmer than he has all night.

“You’re my favorite elf,” Bucky says, and Steve snorts, squeezing him tighter.

“If you ever try to call me Twinkle in bed, we’re done.”


End file.
